recognised, in the failings of the chief, follies dear to their own hearts, were inclined to express sympathy for the man who was so soon to be compelled to relinquish the sweets of office. They spoke at once in an angry chatter and confused chortle of sounds, which, if eloquent, were wholly insufficient. The chief then threw himself back upon his chair, spat somewhat contemptuously, and finally acquiesced in the decision, obtaining some small consolation from the fact that his official allowance would not be discontinued. Then the _kotla_ ended, and the indunas rose up and left, standing together in animated groups around the palisades, for the discussion of the scene in which they had just taken part. Then, as the decision spread throughout the tribe, children and women, young and old, banded together to watch these final indabas. The scene had been solemn enough beneath the _kotla_ tree, but outside the natural instinct of these children of the veldt soon asserted itself, and they began to dance. They formed into small groups of about forty, to the sound of hand-clapping, a not unmusical intoning, and much jumping and stamping of feet. It would seem that they were dancing an old war-dance which had degenerated into one symbolical of love and happiness. Around the joyous groups the old crones circulated, clapping their withered hands, shrieking delight in cracked voices, and generally encouraging the festivity. The dance was curious, and appeared to catch echoes of many lands. There was the diffident maiden, anxious to be loved, but bashful, modest in her manner and in her gestures, until she saw the man that could thrill her; then she glowed, and her steps were animated, buoyant, and caressing. A smile irradiated her face, while a slight, almost imperceptible, movement pulsed through her body. Behind her were her companions, the same age as herself, who imitated her with feverish sympathy, instinctively reproducing her moods of body and of mind. The vibration that stole through the bodies of the dancers increased gradually until, from statues with wicked eyes, full of sensuous expression and amorous allurement, they wavered like thin flames of love in a gust of passion. As the potency of their feelings grew steadily stronger, they swayed in languorous movements, throwing out sinuous arms, their feeble faces smiling, their graceful bodies bending in eager attitudes of expectation. The air became heavy with noise, thick with a veritable tumult, as the dancers jumped more wildly; now they threw themselves into postures in the circle, shifting rapidly with tiny screams of delight and a gliding, clinging motion of their arms and legs as though, coy and eager, they would escape the cherished caresses of their lovers. As they glided, their actions seemed always to be marked with the same regularity, with the same regard to rhythm, and with an innate conception of grace. When they shook their bodies it was with an abandonment that was, at least,